


Lad at the Bell & the Broom, The

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Other - Freeform, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 13:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entry for the Children's Poetry Challenge.  A tale of the rascal son of an innkeeper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lad at the Bell & the Broom, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

I once knew a lad, clever chap was he  
But a rascal, and a horrible one, at that.  
His father was the caretaker of a small inn at Bree  
And his mother was remarkably fat.

The inn was called the Bell & the Broom  
(If my memory serves me right),  
And, while traveling through Bree, I needed a room  
In which to spend the night.

Well, the Bell & the Broom had room to spare!  
In fact, I was their only guest.  
So I settled myself down in their big easy chair  
And unbuttoned my warm winter vest.

The innkeeper’s wife was a marvelous cook  
But for her unusual tea, I did not care.  
But I did not want to tell her, so without another look,  
I drained that cup faster than a hare!

There was suddenly a snort from behind the chair  
And so, I turned around to see  
The innkeeper’s son, with his dirty blonde hair  
Staring and laughing at me!

“I’m so terribly sorry, sir. Stop it, son!”  
The innkeeper apologized.  
“Run off and play. Go on! Run!”  
But it was then that I realized…

“What did you do to my tea?” I cried  
As I rushed towards the kitchen sink.  
The innkeeper’s son dramatically sighed  
As he pulled out…a bottle of ink!

There was silence- no one knew what to say!  
“I’m sorry,” said the said after awhile.  
But I had already grabbed my bag and was on my way  
To the inn down the road about a mile.

So all you lads and lasses, listen up,  
(and I don’t mean to make you afraid)  
But don’t be a fool and put ink in MY cup,  
Or your father may not get paid!


End file.
